


Our Sinner's Redemption Extras

by Batsutousai



Series: Our Sinner's Redemption [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Sex, Coping, Edward Elric Swears, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side-stories of the series, usually a scene from someone other than Ed's PoV, or some non-EdRoy smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come What May - Chapter 04 Extra (Roy)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of side-stories for my _Our Sinner's Redemption_ series. It's going to be a bit of seeing scenes from the perspective of someone other than Ed and a few smut scenes between Ed and someone other than Roy. You should read the chapter in the series that each one's attached to before reading the side-story, but the side-stories aren't necessary for enjoyment or understanding of the series itself. So, you know, if the summary of one of them makes you feel uncomfortable, feel free to skip it. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from chapter four of _Come What May_ , when Roy gets the package from Chris, via Ed and his baker friend.

He never thought he'd say it, but Roy actually _missed_ Fullmetal's presence during his Sunday phone calls. He'd actually been rather glad, the first couple of times, when the boy had made a quick escape, but then he'd kept coming, would sometimes stay and act like he cared – actually _cared_ , wasn't just asking in an attempt to torment Roy about it later – about what was going on in Ishval. Roy had found himself getting used to him, to the easy conversations that, a year ago, he'd never have believed possible. 

And then, his parting shot, that he was remaining in the military? Roy...didn't really know what to do with that. Honestly, the last thing he'd have expected of Fullmetal was for him to stay with the military. And command training? 

Fullmetal had grown up a lot in his months on the run, hadn't he? 

Roy shook himself as he parked the automobile he'd brought up to Resembool that day, then stepped out. He needed to stop thinking about the boy every Sunday. As hard as it was to enter Resembool without thinking about its most widely-known resident. (Assuming Fullmetal even counted as a resident, any more; Roy hadn't seen it himself, but he'd heard about the burnt husk that had once been the Elrics' home.) 

He huffed at himself and shoved his hands into the pockets of his desert coat. A little too heavy for this time of year, honestly, but he preferred the anonymity it granted him, covering his rank and honours. He supposed he could just take off his uniform jacket – could almost hear Fullmetal pointing that out, probably while rolling his eyes, and absolutely with a 'bastard' tacked on to the end – but then he ended up feeling almost... Naked was the wrong word. Normal, maybe? Disguised, like he was trying to fit in with the villagers, hiding the fact that he was very much _not_ one of them. 

(Maes was probably laughing at him; he'd always said Roy was too much of a city-boy to be able to pretend otherwise.) 

He was just passing the shop where Fullmetal had always got his bribes – unnecessary, but appreciated, and Roy had honestly considered stopping a few times himself, just for the sake of familiarity – when he heard a voice call, "General Mustang!" 

He frowned, admittedly disturbed at losing that sense of anonymity – he really should have known it was just an illusion, given how incapable Fullmetal had always been about keeping his tiny mouth _shut_ – and turned to find the woman minding the bakery shop waving to him. Hardly the first time she'd stopped him – Fullmetal had, twice, had her pass on doughnuts as an apology for his usual bad manners – but it was the first time she'd used his name, and the first time she'd called out to him without Fullmetal being around. Unless he'd given up continuing his military service after all? (Roy wouldn't blame him, and hardly expected doughnuts as some form of apology, or whatever this was.) 

Forcing back a sigh, Roy put on the most charming smile he could manage on short notice and started over to the shop. "Can I help you?" he asked. 

The woman held out a bag, bigger than the ones Fullmetal usually brought filled with doughnuts. "Gift for you," she said, before winking. 

Admittedly a little bemused, Roy accepted the bag, unfolded the top, and glanced inside. Brown paper met his eyes, with an array drawn on the top, and it took him a moment, tripping over the fact that there was an array in a bakery bag, but then something in his head – in that corner that held the information he'd received in that other place, and kept finding excuses to not look at too closely – _shifted_.

The array resolved itself not, improbably, as some advanced transmutation, but as a _message_ : _'Brigadier General Bastard just doesn't roll off the tongue right'_.

Fullmetal had sent this, clearly, but Roy couldn't even begin to guess why the boy had sent him anything, let alone what it might be, that it couldn't go through the normal post. 

That last, actually, kind of scared him, a bit. Fullmetal was not _subtle_ , and he didn't do things in secret. _Ever_.

Or, he hadn't. Until he'd spent months hiding from the military with that Xingan prince – who had been possessed by one of the homunculi? Roy still wasn't quite clear on what had happened there – and those two chimeras, managing to avoid even Madame Christmas' long reach. Roy had vague memories of vacillating between fear and anger, at the time, but it had all resolved itself into relief when he found the boy in those tunnels under the city, alive and quite clearly well. 

Roy cleared his throat, recalling his manners – Chris had been quite firm in ensuring he knew to always pay his informants, even for something as simple as a post drop – and quietly asked, "What do I owe you?" 

The woman laughed and shook her head. "Ed sent money," she admitted, before putting on a crafty expression. "However, if you wanted to buy something else..." 

Roy coughed, gave himself a moment to consider saying no – he didn't _need_ the treat, and he always felt a little bad about accepting those doughnuts Fullmetal bought, even though he knew those soldiers who took a weekend trip up to East City hardly regretted their civilian fare – before giving in and requesting, "A doughnut, I think." 

"You think?" she teased, her smile more warm than mocking, and Roy couldn't quite stop a slightly helpless shrug. 

He ended up with two doughnuts, and he couldn't quite drum up sufficient regret for the purchase. 

He made his way down the way to the train station and, instead of going straight to the phone to ring the Hugheses, he settled on the bench and pulled out the package from Fullmetal. It was encased in unusually stiff paper – he assumed alchemy was involved, given who it was from – which tore with only a little more difficulty than normal paper. Inside were two of his older alchemy journals, the same ones he'd mentioned that he wished he'd packed to Chris, in one of the rare messages he'd chanced. He'd expected to pick them up when he went to Central for Elicia's birthday, yet... 

How had Fullmetal got his hands on them? Through Chris, clearly, but how had she even _found_ him? And _why_? Just because his aunt knew he trusted Fullmetal – as much as he trusted any of his team – didn't mean she would go hunting him down to sneak Roy a package. For that matter, the last time he'd even _mentioned_ Fullmetal to her, was when he told her to end the surveillance on him, since Roy hardly needed to keep tabs on the boy when he was done in the military. (He wasn't, but Roy hadn't known that, then, and he was hardly in the position to keep tabs on Fullmetal right now, anyway.) 

He picked the wrapping back up and gave it a careful look over, checking to see if there were any other messages, but it was just the two journals and Fullmetal's little note. 

Well then. He'd have to go by Madame Christmas while he was up in Central after all, if only so he could corner his aunt and demand an explanation. And see about restarting that surveillance on Fullmetal? Maybe? There was still the issue of how Roy would get updates, but he couldn't see Fullmetal being able to sit still for long in Ishval – assuming Roy could trust his temperament down there in the first place (he had his doubts) – and it seemed he'd come away from his exile with some truly worrisome new tricks. 

Roy sighed and shook himself as he slipped the journals into the inner pocket of his jacket and stood; there was no use worrying about any of this for the moment. He had a month and a half before he would be able to tackle the issue with his aunt, and another month and a half after that before any surveillance would be necessary. Longer, if Fullmetal ended up actually coming down to Ishval for a while. (Roy was beginning to think that might be a good idea, if only so he could judge, in person, exactly how much the boy had matured, and hopefully pick out any new bad habits before they became a public relations nightmare.) 

For the moment, however, he rang the Hugheses and, after trading the normal greetings with Gracia, said, "Could you please pass on to Fullmetal that calling me Brigadier General Mustang is sufficient?" 

Gracia was silent for a moment, before slowly agreeing, _"O...kay. I'll do that. Is there a reason?"_

"Just responding to one of his jokes." 

Gracia let out a cough that suggested she was resisting the urge to laugh. _"Let me get Elicia for you, then. Unless there were any other 'jokes' you wanted me to respond to on your behalf?"_

"Not today," Roy offered. 

She snorted at him, then passed the phone over, and Roy was left with Elicia's endless glee, which did a great deal in the way of distracting him from wondering about Fullmetal and how he'd react to the return message, despite him and Alphonse being at the centre of nearly all of Elicia's newest stories. If anything, her stories were actually a relief; they promised that, despite whatever had happened during those months that Roy knew nothing about and his father's sacrifice – Roy didn't believe, for one moment, that Fullmetal was as unaffected by that as he'd tried to pretend – his youngest subordinate hadn't changed that much. Was still ignoring rules – like the one about not using weather alchemy inside Central City limits without the proper permissions from the Führer – and blowing up at the briefest mention of his height. 

Those were the simple truths of Edward Elric, and as long as they remained true, Roy knew the boy was just fine.

.


	2. Come What May - Chapter 07 Extra (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from chapter seven of _Come What May_ , when Roy holds Ed's squad back after their little spar, to ask about Parnall. Roy's PoV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hit me, as I was readying the series for posting, that this could be an interesting scene to cover, but I went back and forth over it a bit, because pile o' OCs, but his squad do end up sticking around for a while, as a background cast, and I think this is a good scene to sort of show, from someone else's PoV, how Ed's squad feel about him. And, too, there's nothing wrong with getting a look at how Roy's thoughts are changing in regards to Ed.

Fullmetal's parting shot, and Warrant Officer Pascale's laughter, echoed through the silent room as they left, and Roy casually crossed his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow around the room full of cadets and command candidates. Most of the cadets shifted, uncomfortable, while the warrant officers and a couple of the cadets straightened, not quite coming to attention, but easing into parade rest. 

Every single last one of them had at least double the respect – or fear – of Roy that Fullmetal had. More than, probably. (Although, the boy's response in the the car, the way he'd turned to Roy for help on the train, the fact that he had Havoc's _stupid_ lighter... Perhaps Roy was underestimating how much Fullmetal respected him. There was, at the least, _something_ more there, now; the more he spoke to him, the more Roy could see that Fullmetal was growing up, and he was going to be one hell of a man.) 

Warrant Officer Tugan cleared his throat and, when Roy looked over at him, calmly requested, "Sir, if I may, that was an impressive spar." The skin around his eyes tightened slightly and he added, "Far above the level of anyone else I've seen." 

Roy allowed himself a slow nod, remembering that this was the command candidate that was tutoring cadets in hand-to-hand. "The military training will give you everything you could need to eventually be able to hold your own, so long as you keep training yourself, as I did." 

"Yes, sir." 

"But what about Ed?" Warrant Officer Bartel, one of Fullmetal's squad mates, asked, before wincing slightly, the burn scar on the left side of his face pulling a bit grotesquely. (Roy made a concerted effort to keep his discomfort off his face.) "I mean, sir, he's not military trained." A couple of the cadets nodded in agreement; Roy knew it would be difficult for _anyone_ to believe Fullmetal to have had any previous military training. 

"Fullmetal and his brother were trained in martial arts by their alchemy teacher, who is, herself, a formidable fighter. Given Fullmetal's penchant for landing himself in dangerous situations, it should come as no surprise that he has never allowed his skills to languish." 

A few people managed faint smiles at that, while Warrant Officers Bartel and Hansa traded frowns. 

Roy cleared his throat. "I will remind you that you are all here to learn how to become soldiers or officers, not hand-to-hand combatants of Fullmetal's skill level. Concentrate on your studies and exercises as your instructors present them to you, while here at the academy. If you wish to better yourselves, later, it will require dedication and effort, and it will be entirely up to you to keep yourselves on task, or find a trainer. You will _not_ be pestering Major Elric for any training while you remain at this campus. Am I clear?" 

Every single one of them came to attention, heels thumping together audibly, and chorused, "Yes, sir!" as they saluted. 

(How exhilarating it was, dealing with a group of soldiers who at least made the _effort_ of appearing respectful. Between Fullmetal's insubordination and the rest of his team's casual disregard, he sometimes forgot he was actually making progress up the military's ladder of ranks.) 

"Good. Squad A, remain behind for a moment. The rest of you are dismissed." 

The room filled with a rush of movement as most of the crowd obediently dispersed in near silence, leaving behind Fullmetal's squad, who had stepped closer together. Warrant Officers Bartel and Hansa had positioned themselves between Roy and the cadets, as though intending to protect them from any punishment, and that warmed Roy, a bit, that sign of the future military that he was aiming for, even as the reminder of _why_ they had developed that habit of getting between a superior and their squad made him want to snap his fingers and light Parnall on fire. 

Roy forced his shoulders to relax and let his arms drop, slipping one into his pocket, trying for a more casual pose to put them all more at ease. "None of you are in trouble," he promised, and most of the cadets relaxed slightly, while Bartel and Hansa traded quick uncertain looks. "I've heard Fullmetal's side, in regards to Colonel Parnall's actions over the past two months, as well as Colonel Parnall's own defence. According to Fullmetal, he isn't the only trainee involved, however. Did any of you have anything to report?" 

Hansa cleared her throat, but before she could speak, one of the cadets, Grahame, called, "We're not gonna rat out Ed, _sir_. He hasn't done anything wrong." 

Most of the other cadets let out murmurs of agreement, a couple shooting Roy belligerent looks, while Hansa and Bartel shot Grahame sharp looks, and one of the cadets, Hamilcar, hissed, "Shut _up_ , Ben!" 

Other than hushing the outspoken cadet, not a member of the squad looked like they had any intention in speaking out against Fullmetal. Rather, they had a particular gleam in their eyes, one that Roy had seen a hundred times from his own team: Loyalty. 

These eleven men and women had Fullmetal's back, would stand with him against even a member of the brass. 

Something in Roy's chest eased, just a little. Fullmetal had always had something of an enviable ability to inspire loyalty and friendship in civilians, largely due to his strong moral code and general abhorrence of military high-handedness, but the soldiers who seemed even a little fond of Fullmetal, seemed to be limited to Roy's own team, and the handful of soldiers that Hughes had assigned to him at one point or another; soldiers who had been picked with an eye towards the patience necessary to survive the boy's prickly temperament. 

And yet, not quite two months into knowing him, here stood a group of (future) soldiers who had found themselves threatened because of Fullmetal's attitude, and stuck with him anyway. It was a relief, an assurance that the boy might yet survive this course he'd chosen. 

(An assurance that Roy hadn't known he'd needed; but, then, he'd only just learnt that Fullmetal wouldn't be assigned to Ishval in a little over a month, where Roy could keep an eye on him. Instead, he'd be running around, causing trouble with a couple of human-chimeras whom Roy had never properly met and knew next to nothing about, save that they'd been with Fullmetal for those months on the run and helped against Father. If he could make friend with this varied group – a veteran of the Promised Day, a soldier from East Command, cadets from border towns and capitals and mountain villages, cadets who had been born into the military or come into it by choice – then he might have finally grown up enough to make the sorts of contacts in the military that could one day save his life.) 

Roy cleared his throat to regain their attention, and said, "I'm not requesting anyone 'rat out' Fullmetal, Cadet. I'm simply asking for your thoughts on the situation with Colonel Parnall. If you have something to say about Fullmetal, good or ill, however, I'm willing to listen. I assure you, there is little you can say of him that I haven't heard before." The last came out a little wryer than he'd intended, but some tensed shoulders relaxed, and he saw humour in the eyes of some of the cadets. 

Hansa cleared her throat, then proceeded to give him essentially the same report that Fullmetal had shared with both him and Führer Grumman, with only some minor changes that put Fullmetal in a far more favourable light. Bartel and the cadets let her talk without interrupting, but he spotted many of the cadets nodding in agreement when Hansa – always carefully respectful – mentioned something Parnall had done, or any time she made an allusion to the fact that something wasn't Fullmetal's fault. 

As soon as Hansa was done, not giving Roy a chance to comment, Bartel said, "Sir, Major Elric can come off as a little crass, sometimes–" Roy politely didn't laugh "–but nothing he's done has been sufficient cause for the attacks Colonel Parnall keeps making. I'm familiar with the 'extra attention' academy commanders will sometimes focus on struggling recruits, but the colonel's attacks have always come off as being personal, and intended to harm, rather than give a cadet the extra push they need. 

"In our classes and training, the major always excels, but he's never rude about offering assistance or encouragement, even to the other squads. He's a little insubordinate, yes, and he seems to view the rulebook as more of a loose guideline, but I would rather serve under him than _any_ of the officers I've served under or near, even my own father or uncle." He raised his chin slightly, meeting Roy's eyes with a hint of insubordination, which Roy suspected he'd learnt from Fullmetal. "Major Elric is a _good man_."

Behind Bartel, the cadets all nodded, expressions unyielding. Next to him, Hansa's eyes said she agreed, even as she remained looking stiffly forward, into the distance. 

Roy wanted to smile at them, to assure them that he knew, that he was glad to know that Fullmetal had them on his side, that he had people who knew how much of an obnoxious brat he could be, and yet would still stand with him first. 

He didn't. Instead, he simply nodded and said, "Yes, he is. Thank you for your reports; you're all dismissed." 

They were all still for a moment, Hansa and Bartel both shooting Roy narrow-eyed searching looks. But then the two warrant officers turned and led the cadets out, in nearly perfect formation. 

Roy looked towards the punching bag Fullmetal liked to abuse, let out a careful breath that wasn't _quite_ a sigh. He still wanted to light a literal fire under Parnall's rear, as punishment for all the abuse he'd been aiming at Fullmetal, and he still disliked the idea of the boy – young man, really, if Roy was being honest – going off to cause mayhem well out of Roy's reach, but he felt a little better about it. Fullmetal was growing up, was learning to hold his temper when faced with a superior that wasn't willing to forgive his teenage insubordination, and appeared to have further developed his ability to inspire loyalty everywhere. 

All Roy could do was hope that, if it all came crashing down around Fullmetal's ears, he had grown up enough to come to Roy for help.

.


	3. Come What May - Chapter 10 Extra (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from chapter ten of _Come What May_ , following how Roy found out about the train explosion and got to Central.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the first side-scene I knew I was going to have to write, even though it's one of the last ones I did for _Come What May_ 's set. I can only hope it turned out as awesome as it was when it first formed itself in my head.
> 
> Technically, this side-story takes place at the end of chapter 9, but because you don't know that Roy's going to show up in Central until chapter 10, I opted to wait and attach it to 10, instead.

They had all just sat down for dinner, when one of the soldiers assigned to watch duty, Sergeant Smith, hurried into the fort mess hall, headed straight for the officer table. The chatter around the room died off, everyone eyeing the interruption with interest. 

Smith stopped in front of Roy and saluted. As soon as he'd returned the salute, Smith said, "Sir! There are a couple of villagers come down from Resembool. They say they've brought bread for us." His mouth turned down a bit at the corners, brow furrowing, like he didn't really get what was going on. 

Roy completely understood, though the mention of bread caused his stomach to start sinking; the woman in Resembool who Edward was passing his post through, Marie, was the town baker's wife, and if this was her... 

He stood. "I see. If you'll show me to them, Sergeant?" 

Smith gave a brief nod. "Yes, sir." 

Roy couldn't even pretend to be surprised when Riza rose and followed him, but he was a little confused when Miles also joined them. Which must have shown on his face – or Miles was used to having to explain himself, now he was working under someone other than Major General Armstrong – because he said, once they'd left the mess, "It occurs to me that Fullmetal grew up in Resembool." 

Sometimes, Roy forgot that Miles had actually had the opportunity to get to know the Elrics a bit while they were up north; of course he'd equate a surprise visit from their civilian neighbours as having to do with Edward. And, given that the last Edward-based crisis that Roy had been handed required him spending extra time in Central, it was actually fairly sensible for the two next highest ranked officers at the fort to come along and hear, first hand, what trouble Roy would have to clean up this time. 

(Roy sincerely hoped it wouldn't be another case of Edward butting heads with a ranking officer. Even if Edward decided to be difficult again, Grumman should have the sense to step in and handle it without needing Roy to run up to Central and play mediator.) 

It was indeed Marie waiting for them, as well as her husband – Herman or Sherman or something like that – whom Roy had only met once, when Marie had been stuck in bed with a cold and he'd been managing the shop. Marie was wringing her hands, a shaky smile on her face, while her husband looked grim and – if Roy was reading him right – more than a little worried. 

"I'm Brigadier General Roy Mustang, the commander of this fort," he offered as he stopped in front of them, and the soldiers who had been standing at attention to either side of the civilians saluted and stepped back, likely responding to a motion from Riza. "Sergeant Smith said you brought bread?" 

Marie pressed her hands tight together, turned an uncertain look on first Roy, then her husband. 

"We did," Sherman/Herman said, his voice tight. "Our cold storage is having trouble, so we had to use up most of our store of yeast, to keep it from going to waste, but that left us with far more bread than we can sell off. Marie suggested we bring it down here, figured you soldiers could do with a bit of fresh bread." 

Roy had no idea how much of that story was true, but it _was_ true that the military's idea of mess rations for outposts like theirs were...not always the most appetising, and bread from a proper bakery would be welcomed by everyone, even Roy. (Hence the reason buying anything from Marie on Sundays always felt like a guilty pleasure.) So he offered them one of his friendlier smiles and replied, "I've little doubt it'll be well received. If you give me the figures, I'll see to it that the military reimburses you for the cost." 

Sherman/Herman let out a grunt, though what it meant, Roy couldn't begin to guess. "That'd be appreciated." 

Riza stepped forward and said, "Sergeant Smith, if you would gather some members of your watch to help take the bread into the mess?" 

"Happy to, sir," Smith said, completely honest, before motioning to the soldiers who had been guarding Marie and her husband to help him. 

Roy waited until the soldiers had left with their first load, before focussing on Marie. "Did something happen?" he asked, letting some of his concern into his voice. 

Marie swallowed and nodded. "It was on the radio," she said quietly. "A train in the south was blown up, and the people who did it are blaming Ed." 

The sinking feeling in his stomach resolved itself into a proper freefall, and Roy clenched his jaw against a curse. With Edward hunting down splinter cells of a terrorist organisation, there'd been the potential for something like this to happen practically from day one, but Roy had been hoping the groups would continue being minor inconveniences. 

"Ed isn't in trouble, is he?" Marie pleaded, while her husband's expression took on a definite edge of protectiveness. "The military wouldn't really take him to task because someone named him as their reason for...for _that_ , will they?" 

Roy wondered if Edward realised exactly how much the people he'd grown up with cared about him. Somehow, he doubted it. 

"It is extremely unlikely that Fullmetal will be held accountable for the actions of terrorists, whether they're blaming him or not," Roy replied in his most soothing voice. "If it will ease your concerns, I'm willing to drive up to Resembool and ring Central Command to make certain." 

Marie's shoulders loosened slightly. "I would appreciate that," she admitted, before ducking her head. "Thank you, General." 

"Of course," Roy replied, before turning to Riza and Miles and motioning for them to take a couple steps away from the civilians with him. Riza knew what was going on, but Miles didn't, so Roy quietly explained, "Fullmetal is hunting down parts of a pro-Bradley organisation that have been causing minor disruptions all over Amestris. The Führer set him on the mission, but it is classified as top secret." 

Miles' lips thinned and he nodded. "Führer Grumman can't be seen to be taking a stance against pro-Bradley sentiment, not unless he wants a civil war," he guessed. "And since Fullmetal already has a history of being a bit of a loose cannon, he's the perfect scapegoat." 

Roy couldn't quite stop a grimace, felt a bit better at seeing it mirrored on Riza's face. "I doubt the Führer would leave Edward hanging, should it come to that," she said, her tone suggesting she'd find a way up to Central and shoot her grandfather if he _did_ try anything like that. 

Roy cleared his throat. "I don't believe that was the intention," he offered. "There is always the potential for military backing, for something as large-scale as this group seems to be, so keeping the mission need-to-know protects Fullmetal and his team." 

Miles nodded in understanding; doubtless, Armstrong had been required to use subterfuge to undermine Central-sent spies in Briggs, in the past. "Is there a chance Fullmetal was on that train?" 

Roy shook his head, because the last report he'd got had Edward and his team still up north. As often as he complained about Briggs troops chasing him around, Roy had been a little surprised to hear that the young man didn't have any plans to move on, but he also seemed to have a list of splinter cells to hunt down and take out; if not for Grumman's orders months ago sending them north, Roy suspected Edward would have remained in the west until he couldn't find even a whisper of another group. "No." 

"Sir," Riza said, concern darkening her eyes, "Edward is not going to take this news well." 

Well, that was one thing Roy didn't need to be told; both Elrics had an unfortunate habit of blaming themselves for events that had been outside of their control, yet within their sphere of influence. (It was a failing which Roy, admittedly, also suffered from.) Even if the terrorists hadn't called out Edward specifically, he would end up blaming himself for spending too much time in the north, instead of trying to cover the entire country all at once, and if someone didn't talk to him, Roy could easily see him running himself ragged in an attempt to keep another attack like this one from happening. 

If Alphonse were still in Amestris, Roy would have trusted him to talk Edward down, but he was in Xing, too far away to be able to help until it was too late. Gracia or Miss Rockbell would be the next best options, but everything Roy knew about his youngest subordinate said he would avoid both of them, insisting it was an attempt to keep them from worrying. That meant it was going to be up to Roy to somehow catch Edward and talk him down. 

Somehow, Roy resisted the urge to sigh. 

"The trains are probably on a limited schedule, if they're running at all," Roy said. "I'll attempt to be gone for no more than two weeks." 

It was only because he knew her so well, that he saw the approval in Riza's eyes. 

"We'll manage any difficulties that might arise while you're gone, sir," Miles promised without a hint of disapproval. 

(Sometimes, Roy found himself wondering at the power Edward had, to inspire fondness – if not outright friendship – in so many different people; civilian and soldier, Amestrisan and Ishvalan and Xingan, even a _homunculus_. Which wasn't to say he was incapable of making enemies, because Roy had received plenty of complaints about the young man over the years, only that he had the power to do something like make a single radio broadcast speaking out in support of their Führer, and public opinion would almost immediately follow his lead.) 

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. Captain." 

They both saluted him, then Miles turned to return to the mess, while Riza motioned with her head in the direction of the officer tents. "I'll oversee the unloading of the bread, if you wanted to pack a bag, sir." Couched like a suggestion, but Roy heard the order implicit in the words. 

He flashed her a smile that was, perhaps, a little too helpless, and agreed, "An excellent suggestion, Captain," before leaving to do so. 

In the time it took him to gather his things and return to Marie and her husband's automobile, the last of the bread had been unloaded, and the watch had returned to their positions, leaving only Riza with the two civilians. She must have had someone grab a key from the carpool tent during one of their bread runs, because she held out the key to the car Roy usually took up to Resembool as he joined them. 

"Thank you, Captain," he offered as he accepted it. 

She held out a cloth with something inside with her other hand, her eyes glinting with humour. "Don't take too long, sir," she suggested drily, "or I'll have to come up after you." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Roy promised as he accepted the cloth, then turned to Marie and her husband. "I'll be right behind you." 

Marie offered him a smile that only trembled a little bit. "Thank you for doing this, General." 

Roy nodded to her and made his way over to his usual car. Once on the worn track that led from the fort to Resembool, following the civilian automobile, Roy cautiously opened the cloth Riza had given him, revealing some of the fresh bread that had been brought down, as well as some of the dried meat that they kept on hand for meals away from the mess. 

Some days, he wasn't certain how he'd survived his time in the military before she'd become his adjunct. 

-0-

Despite how late it was when they finally reached Resembool, the main street was practically _teeming_ with villagers, and at least three different shops had their doors and windows thrown open so they could hear the report coming from the radio. (Which, from what Roy overheard, sounding like more repeating the facts everyone knew, because they didn't have anything new.) 

People turned to watch as Roy followed Marie and her husband to their shop, and he felt uncomfortably obvious, even with his coat covering most of his uniform. Still, no one seemed hostile, just watchful, like they were waiting to see what he'd do, if he'd start citing regulations to get them back in their homes, or something equally heavy-handed. 

(The military wasn't well-liked in Resembool, he knew, despite one of the more famous State Alchemists hailing from here. Roy had told Edward, once, that he knew better than to flirt with a small-town woman, but it was more that he knew he wasn't welcome in Resembool, so he'd taken pains to inconvenience as few people as possible when he visited.) 

"You can use our phone, General," Marie offered as they reached her shop. 

Roy wanted to refuse – he didn't want to be an inconvenience, and he was going to have to use Grumman's home number, this late – but he suspected the offer was as much for Marie's peace of mind as anything else, and he'd very likely end up with a crowd if he used the public station phone. So he put on a smile and said, "That would be appreciated, thank you." 

Sherman/Herman led the way into the shop and turned on the light in the front before vanishing into the back, while Marie showed the way to the phone on the far wall. 

He quickly dialled Grumman's home number and stood through a couple rings, which were interrupted by the man himself finally picking up and snapping, _"This had best be important."_

Roy refused to be cowed by that tone – Riza's disapproving look was at least twice as terrifying as her grandfather's most irritated snarl – instead flatly returning, "It's important." 

Grumman was silent for a moment, before sighing. _"I didn't expect to hear from you until Sunday,"_ he said, unusually honest. (Chris had always said that the best time to get a straight answer out of the man was when he was either exhausted or drunk.) 

"Some of Fullmetal's neighbours were concerned he would be facing punishment, due to the terrorists using his name." 

_"There are a couple of generals who would be quite pleased at that outcome,"_ Grumman replied flatly, _"but they have been reminded that this administration punishes culprits, not victims."_

Roy hadn't anticipated anything else, but something in his chest eased at the assurance that Grumman wouldn't let anyone attack Edward for something he was probably already blaming himself for. "I'll be sure to pass that on, sir." 

Grumman grunted. _"Is that all, Mustang? As you might have guessed, it's been a hell of a day, and I'd like to get some sleep."_

"Just one last thing, sir," Roy returned. "If Fullmetal stops through Central, please tell him he needs to stay there until I get in." 

_"Fine,"_ Grumman snapped, before hanging up. 

Roy sighed and gently returned the handset to its cradle, then turned towards where Marie was standing on the far side of the counter, next to the open door. A few other villagers were standing in the opening, watching Roy expectantly. "The Führer guarantees that Fullmetal will not be facing any charges in relation to this incident," he promised. 

Relief raced across the faces of his audience, and all but Marie vanished back out onto the street. Roy could hear, through the open door, people passing on the news that Edward wasn't in any trouble. 

Marie leant back against the wall, smile grateful. "Thank you," she said, for what seemed like the dozenth time that evening. "I know it must seem silly to you, that we've all been so worried about him, but..." She shrugged. "He's one of us. We all watched those boys grow up, losing so much..." She swallowed and looked away. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Roy replied, a little too honest, but, then, he was already trusting her with his correspondence from Fullmetal, most of which had the ability to endanger Fullmetal, should it fall into the wrong hands. "Those boys need people who worry about them, despite what they might say to the contrary." 

She shot a small, sad smile at him. "They're both a little too much like their mother, in that way." 

Roy shrugged. "I'm afraid I never had the opportunity to meet her." 

She nodded, then asked, "You're going up to Central?" 

Roy sighed and offered her a slightly wry smile. "Military punishment may not be awaiting Fullmetal, but experience tells me he'll be perfectly capable of handling that on his own." 

Marie winced. "Oh, no. I didn't even think of that. And Al is travelling!" 

"I'll do what I can," Roy promised. 

She blinked and considered him for a moment, before putting on a smile that seemed far more relieved than he thought his words had merited. "You'll need a place to stay, if you intend to catch the train as soon as they give the all-clear for them to start running again," she pointed out. 

Roy cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'd intended to sleep in the car," he admitted. 

Marie tutted. "We have a perfectly good couch, if you don't mind the early hours, or Richard and Brenda down the way, their son's moved up to New Optain, so they've a proper bed free." 

"I wouldn't want to impose," Roy attempted to demur. 

"Nonsense," Marie returned pleasantly enough, even as her expression promised there was no way Roy was going to be allowed to sleep in the car. 

"I'll take the couch," he decided, since he already knew Marie and her husband. 

"Wonderful! Let's see to getting your case, then." 

-0-

The couch was unexpectedly comfortable, but that could have been because Roy was used to sleeping on a camp cot, rather than because it was actually a comfortable couch. Either way, he had one of the best night's sleep he could remember having in quite some time, which seemed odd, given recent events, but he suspected his normal nightmares would return in due course. 

He met Marie and her husband, _Herman_ 's, two sons for the first time. They were around the same age as Edward and Alphonse, and the brief conversation he had with them suggested they'd all gone to school together, and that the Elrics had an entirely unsurprising habit of studying whatever they felt like, which very rarely had anything to do with the teacher's instruction. 

(Somehow, Roy kept from laughing.) 

The males of the house had all followed Marie's lead in acting welcoming towards Roy, which felt a little odd, but Roy decided to blame it on Edward – it seemed the most likely explanation for anyone with a connection to him, honestly – and determined it wasn't worth questioning it. 

The morning paper came later than the family usually expected, judging by Herman's comment when he accepted his copy from the boy who brought it by. Roy had intended to either wait until Herman was done, or go to the general shop down the way in twenty minutes or so to buy his own copy, but Herman held it out to him, saying, "We heard it all." 

"Thank you," Roy managed with only a little surprise as he accepted the paper. The headline was a glaring _'GROUP BOMBS SOUTH TRAIN; CALLS FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST TERRORIST'_.

Well, that boded well. 

He was in the act of unfolding the paper to read it, when his eyes caught on the date. "It's the twenty-seventh," he heard himself saying, oddly distant under a rush of...disbelief or sorrow or horror or all of them all at once, he wasn't even certain. 

Edward had turned seventeen the day before. 

Marie and Herman were both grimly silent; doubtless, they'd been aware of the date before they'd even driven down to Ishval. 

Not for the first time, Roy hated how removed he was from... _everything_ , down in Ishval. It wasn't just public opinion and tragedies, it was the _date_.

He shook himself and settled in to read through the article. It covered pretty much the same information as what Marie and Herman had told them down at the fort, with the addition of the casualty numbers and information about the funerals and memorials. There was an article on the next page about train service being resumed on Monday, and a couple of articles covering public response to the bombing. It was nearly unanimously in favour of Edward, he couldn't help but notice, but this _was_ the East Post, which had always seemed to have a soft spot for the youngest State Alchemist, even when he went on one of his destruction sprees. The single disapproving article was actually fairly mild in its criticism, compared to how journalists usually attacked members of the military when they messed up. 

The back page was a list of the deceased, with a column dedicated to those currently in critical condition. Roy only intended to give it a cursory glance – out of respect; none of the people he personally cared about would have any reason to be on a southern-bound train – but his eyes caught on a name that was only passingly familiar, but brought to mind a memory of Edward sitting across from him in his broom-cupboard office at the academy, practically snarling, _"Parnall came out, said Siemans was otherwise occupied, so he'd be our instructor for the day. Said some bullshit about the uptick of interest in hand-to-hand meaning they were gonna speed up the cadets' training in that, then told Rebecca – Cadet Flanders – to serve as his 'assistant'. I stopped her, told him if he wanted to hit someone, he could hit me, and he waved me up."_

" _Shit_ ," he heard himself say, couldn't even bring himself to care that his usual filters had failed. 

Three down from Pte Rebecca Flanders was another familiar name, Pte Nicholas Halberstadt, Jr. 

Roy had been so _proud_ to discover that Edward – unconscious though it may have been – had been using _him_ as an example of the sort of commander he wanted to be, but now, with this... 

Roy knew exactly what he would do, if he saw the name of one of his subordinates on that list, what he _had_ done, when Maes had been murdered. If Edward followed his example in this, he was going to walk away hating himself. Worse, he'd probably self-destruct; Roy knew all too well how Edward felt about killing, was still halfway waiting for the fall-out from his father's sacrifice. 

"General?" Marie called, concern in her voice. 

Roy pushed away from the table; he needed to find a way to get to Central before the end of the weekend, because he doubted Edward would be willing to wait much longer than that, whether Grumman made it a direct order or not. "Fullmetal knew people on that train," he explained, before stepping around the table and making for the front door; maybe he could use his rank to ignore the rail closures. 

Behind him, he heard Herman letting out a string of curses worthy of Edward's usual foul mouth. 

He stepped rapidly down the road to the station, couldn't say what his expression was, only that the villagers moved quickly out of his way with frowns that looked more worried than discontent. 

The station was, of course, completely empty, a sign on the ticket counter window notifying all travellers that rail travel had been suspended until further notice, by order of Führer Grumman. 

Roy turned towards the tracks, where a cold train sat, waiting for the all-clear to start its way up to East City, and grimaced as an Edward-worthy idea – stealing the engine and winging it as best he could – popped into his head. 

Was he that desperate? He could always ring Grumman again, tell him to just throw Edward into prison, if necessary. Probably throw the chimeras he was travelling with in there, too, in case they got it in mind to break the young man out. 

(It occurred to him that he should try to properly meet Edward's travelling companions when he got to Central, because he remembered fighting with a few chimeras on the Promised Day, but he couldn't say which ones were with Edward, and his brief mentions of them in his reports didn't help at all in figuring it out.) 

Behind him, a vehicle honked its horn, then a familiar voice called, "Yo, Chief!" 

Roy turned to look and found Havoc just stepping out of his beat up pick-up, wearing a smile that looked strained. " _Havoc_?" he asked, couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice. 

Havoc's smile sharpened and he knocked a fist against the bonnet of the pick-up. "Yup. I got a rush delivery up in Central, came looking for a second driver." 

That wasn't in any iteration of the code Roy had used with his team, but he didn't need a guide to translate it: Havoc had heard about the bombing and knew someone needed to talk Edward down before he did something he'd regret. 

Roy wondered if he'd ever truly regret making Havoc a member of his team; even retired, he was still working to support Roy and everyone else who'd stayed, despite everything he'd lost standing at Roy's side. 

"I'll get my bag," he said as he turned to head back down the path towards Marie's home. 

"I'll figure out how to turn around," Havoc called after him, clearly intended to be a joke, but his voice was a little too flat. 

Marie was the only one in the kitchen when he got back to her house, and she opened the door with a worried look. 

"A friend came down from East City," Roy offered in a bid to ease her concern. "We're leaving for Central right away." 

She nodded and stepped out of his way, following at a distance as he moved into the living room and picked up his bag, glancing around to make sure he hadn't left anything out. (He shouldn't have, had been careful about packing back up everything he took out of the bag, but it never hurt to be certain.) 

Marie saw him to the door before quietly saying, "Tell him we're thinking of him. All of us." 

"I will," Roy promised. 

She nodded and, when she didn't say anything further, Roy inclined his head and returned to Havoc. 

Havoc tossed him the keys when he reached him, and Roy shot him an unimpressed look, even as he stepped around to the driver's side. 

"Hey," Havoc said as they both got in and Roy started the pick-up, "I'm not your designated driver any more. I'm going to enjoy the chance to make _you_ drive, for once. Sir." 

Roy shook his head and shifted them into gear, then started them along the dirt road. "You'll have to drive eventually," he couldn't resist pointing out. 

"Yeah, _eventually_."

Roy couldn't quite stop a snort. 

Havoc was quiet until Resembool had turned into a hazy speck in the mirrors, finally asked, "You heard?" 

"Yes," Roy agreed quietly. "Two people from his academy squad were killed." 

" _Fuck_."

"My sentiments exactly." Roy tightened his grip on the steering wheel and quietly admitted, "I wish Alphonse wasn't in Xing." 

"Yeah," Havoc agreed, and Roy didn't need to look at him to know he was slumped in his seat, probably playing with a cigarette he hadn't quite decided to light yet; Roy was a little impressed at his restraint. "He'll listen to you, though." 

Roy chanced a glance at him and, yeah, Havoc was playing with a cigarette. "Because you gave him that ruined lighter?" 

Havoc glanced at him, quick enough Roy almost missed it, then shrugged and pulled out a pack of matches. "Maybe," he agreed. 

"Open the window, or I'll burn up your entire cigarette before you can get anything out of it," Roy threatened, mostly for something to say. 

"You're not wearing your gloves," Havoc cheerfully pointed out as he struck the match. 

"I don't need my gloves any more." 

Havoc held still for a long moment, until the flame crept down far enough to burn his fingers. Then he yelped, quickly waved it out, and rolled down his window to toss the spent match out. He didn't roll it back up as he struck another match and lit his cigarette, just tossed the second match out after the first one, then turned slightly, so most of the smoke went outside. 

"Thank you." 

Havoc gave a vague nod and remained silent while he smoked his cigarette. As he stubbed it out on the burnt edge of an ashtray on the console between them, then added it to the already impressive collection, he said, "He didn't need the lighter to stay." 

Oddly enough, Roy had already figured that part out for himself; Havoc never would have passed that on if Edward hadn't already been determined to remain a member of the military. "I know." 

"He'll listen to you," Havoc said again, a little more insistent. 

Roy remembered sitting across from Edward on a train, the young man turning to him for help in managing the problem with Parnall. And in that broom-cupboard office, the way some of the strain had fled from Edward's expression when Roy had promised that he would be with him through the entire trial. "I know," he said again. 

If Havoc had a response to that, he kept it to himself.

.


	4. Come What May - Chapter 10 NSFW Extra (Darius)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from chapter ten of _Come What May_ , when Ed gets in and asks Darius and Heinkel for sex, from Darius' PoV.  
>  **Warnings:** Sex as coping, referenced underage sex, referenced dub-con, minor angst, comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth a few times about whose PoV to write this in – Ed's or one of the chimeras' – before settling on Darius. Which means there's a bit of introspection tossed in with the porn, but I'm kinda not sorry about that. I like Darius. :P
> 
> Heads up that the sexual history between Ed and Darius and Heinkel (and Greedling) is all kinds of fucked up mess. You get to see a bit of how much of a mess it was here, but you'll have to wait until the second fic to find out a bit more from Ed's perspective. (Well, as much as Ed will actually give us. ^.^")
> 
> As a reminder, for the canon of this series, the age of consent is 16, and Ed has just turned 17. (He was, however, 15 before the Promised Day, while they were on the run, hence the referenced underage sex warnings.)

A whole day spent casing the city, and they'd got back to the hotel room with absolutely nothing to show. Well, nothing save for what had been in the paper. So, a pile of terrorists who had a hard-on for Bradley and hated Ed and Grumman decided to celebrate their issues by blowing up a train. 

Darius was fairly certain he wouldn't understand that leap in logic, even if he _didn't_ have a gorilla consciousness grumbling at the edges of his sense of self. 

What were they going to tell Ed? 

They needed a target, but all they had was 'south'. It was like trying to find Alphonse after the mineshaft all over again, except, this time, not finding their target would end in something far worse than Ed hugging himself and whispering assurances when he thought none of them were awake. 

"I hate this," he muttered, because he was tired of looking over the non-existent facts in the silence of his own head. 

Heinkel glanced up from the newspapers he was reading through, hoping to find any hint about, at the least, _where_ in the south the attack had taken place. He looked as tired and worried as Darius felt, and it sounded in his voice when he quietly replied, "I know." 

"He's going to be livid–"

"I'm not sure that's the right word." 

"Shut up. He's not going to be happy when he gets back and we have _nothing_."

Heinkel sighed and shook his head. "Maybe spending time with Elicia and Gracia will help calm him down a little bit." 

Darius grimaced, but he had to admit that Ed always seemed much more relaxed after ringing the family. He didn't really get it, but after months of living with an Ed who was constantly on edge, who only ever seemed to unwind after sex – or, what had counted for unwinding; he hadn't realised how tense the idiot had still been until the first time he saw him with his brother after the Promised Day, and saw how he was like when he was honestly happy and relaxed – it was nice to find something that could fairly consistently get him to smile for a day or two. Alphonse's little packages helped, too, but they weren't expecting another one of those for a few more weeks, and, by then... 

Well, Darius sincerely hoped they would have put this wreck to rest by then, but if they kept turning up as little intel as they had today–

A knock sounded on the room door. 

Darius looked over at Heinkel, found him watching him with the same sort of tense, constantly-on-edge look that he'd been seeing way too much of since they started hunting terrorists in the north. (And, really, he wanted to tell Ed to just _take_ Armstrong's offer to camp out in Briggs for a week or two, but the little idiot had a shitty habit of considering those sorts of offers to be challenges, so they were running all over the north instead. If they had to go back up there, Darius might just resort to knocking Ed out and dragging him up to the fort, so they could sort through whatever Armstrong wanted. Even if it _was_ kind of amusing to constantly beat out those oh-so-perfect Briggs soldiers.) 

Heinkel stood to get the door, while Darius casually pulled out his gun, flipped off the safety, and considered it like he was looking for imperfections, or whatever shit some unaware hotel employee might decide he was doing. 

Except it wasn't a hotel employee standing on the other side of the door, it was Ed, and the expression on his face was _wretched_ , and familiar in a way that made Darius want to throw up. That was the look that said he'd reached the end of his rope, that something had gone seriously wrong. 

Darius nearly fumbled his gun putting it down, as Ed stepped quickly past Heinkel, looking like he didn't even see him. He stood as Ed stilled in the middle of the room and stared around blankly, too close to that morning Darius had found him huddled in nothing more than a blanket in the hallway outside his room, smelling of alcohol, sex, and strangers. "Ed?" he called, stepping carefully forward, afraid this would be another one of those times when all any of them could do was help Ed pick up the pieces. 

"Fuck me," Ed said, his voice sounding scratchy. "Someone." He looked up and met Darius' eyes, a bit more aware. " _Please_."

Darius wanted to say no, remembered all too well Ed's own dry joke that meant their days of sleeping together for Greed's twisted pleasure were over. (He'd been grateful, then, because Ed had always been too young, but he and Heinkel had agreed that it was better for Ed to get stuck in bed with one of them, than whichever nameless face Greed shoved Ed's direction. That Ed had been the one to say no, that he'd joked about it with that same unflagging strength that had pulled him through trials that Darius only knew pieces of, had been a _relief_.)

And, yet... Darius would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having Ed sharing his bed. He never took anything lying down, and he was more than strong enough, physically, to fight his way out of Darius' grasp, despite being small enough that Darius' gorilla half expected he would be able to overpower him. He honestly missed having that, some nights, but not enough that he would actually force it on Ed. (And for more reasons than just that Ed could, in fact, kick his arse if he'd half a mind to, especially since Heinkel would be one hundred percent on his side.) 

Darius glanced past Ed, towards Heinkel, who was still standing by the now-closed door. Heinkel was frowning, worry all-to-obvious in his dark eyes, and Darius knew he was running through a similar self-battle as Darius, though his would be more along the line of 'if anyone finds out and reports it, Ed's going to get dragged through a court-martial, but we can probably protect him because he's still young enough, and he looks like he needs _something_ '. He cared far more about the rules, but Darius was almost certain that Heinkel would throw the rule book into the nearest fire if he thought it would help Ed. 

(Crazy kid. Darius wondered if Ed knew how much he'd come to matter to them, after those months on the run with Greed and his perversions.) 

Heinkel closed his eyes and his mouth parted like he was sighing, even though Darius couldn't hear it. And then he nodded; if there was a problem somewhere down the line, they'd weather it then. 

(Darius suspected it was the 'please' that had decided him.) 

He stepped forward and brushed his hand back, along Ed's cheek, a far more intimate touch than any of them usually allowed. "Okay," he said quietly. 

Ed's eyes fell closed and he sort of slumped, swaying forward. 

Darius caught him with one hand, holding him steady and ducking his head down, pressing his forehead against Ed's after he'd removed his hat with his free hand, tossing it in the general direction of the table Heinkel had spread his papers over. "Hey," he said, admittedly a little worried by that response. Almost like Ed needed to go to bed, more than he needed sex. 

But then Ed opened his eyes again, and there was a well of loneliness and grief in them, edged in desperation. 

Any hint of his better sense fled at that, and Darius tilted his head and leant in, pressing a firm kiss to Ed's mouth. 

Ed was still for one long second, and then he almost seemed to come alive, hands coming up to grab fistfuls of Darius' sleeves, opening into the kiss, tongue darting out to tempt Darius into a minor battle. (Something he'd learnt from Greed, he didn't doubt.) He tasted of something slightly acidic, which turned Darius' stomach before he even realised what it was. 

He almost stopped, asked what the fuck had happened that had Ed throwing up, but he was too far in it now. (And, besides, Ed was very clearly not in the mood for discussion.) 

That said, he could and did get a hand under Ed's arse, using it to boost him up slightly – less than he used to have to; Ed had grown, clearly – and moved to kiss at his throat. 

Ed's head went back and he let out an encouraging sound, his hands tightening against Darius' biceps. 

"Here," Heinkel murmured, announcing his approach, "let's get you undressed." 

"Neat freak," Darius muttered, even as he obediently set Ed back on the ground and moved his arm out of the way. 

Ed let out a noise that was half-annoyed, half-amused, but he also gave in to Heinkel's attempts to keep them from leaving the formal uniform in a heap on the floor, letting go of Darius' arms and working open the jacket, while Heinkel managed the funeral sash. 

Almost before Ed was finished undressing, he was yanking at Darius' clothing, his mouth twisted with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, still dimmed with that loneliness and grief. Darius didn't bother arguing, just stripped as quickly as he could, leaving it in a pile on the floor – and ignoring Heinkel's long-suffering sigh – as he shoved Ed back towards the nearest bed. 

Ed fell back onto the mattress without complaint and started shifting up the bed, the movement of his muscles as hypnotic as the way light played along his automail; Darius had never been attracted to smaller men until Ed, and he still couldn't figure if it was some sort of weird pseudo-science attachment, or related to the fact that he'd known the kid could kick his arse pretty much from day one. (Even with non-existent visibility and fighting both him and Heinkel, Ed had managed to hold his own, probably would have continued keeping them at bay, if he hadn't fallen down the mineshaft.) 

Darius glanced back at Heinkel, who quirked a smile and shook his head, which didn't surprise him. He'd known, long before they ended up travelling with Greed and his perversions, that Heinkel preferred women, had only ever gone along with Greed as an attempt to protect Ed. He was still way more touchy-feely than any other straight man Darius knew – than he'd been during the short period of time they'd had to get used to each other, Jerso, and Zampano before going north with Kimblee – but he didn't know if that was because of what they'd gone through together, or if Heinkel was just _that comfortable_ with his sexuality. 

Well, that was fine. He turned back to Ed and couldn't stop from rolling his eyes upon finding the brat had posed himself provocatively. "I'll leave you like that," he threatened, even as he climbed onto the bed. 

Ed rolled his own eyes. "Get over here before I go–"

Darius didn't let him finish the threat, palmed his dick on the way up to kiss him silent. He'd forgotten about the taste of old sick until it was too late, and he couldn't quite hold back a grimace that time. 

Ed grabbed his wrist, hand a little too small to fit all the way around, but still plenty strong enough to pull Darius away from his dick. "What is–?" he started, tense all over, and Darius couldn't even begin to guess what wild assumption he'd jumped to. 

"Breath mint?" he suggested. 

Ed stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before a hint of pink dusted over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glanced to the side and gave a quick nod, and it should have made him look stupidly young and completely turned Darius off, but it didn't, and he wasn't sure if he should hate himself, or just blame his animal half for the fact that he no longer seemed to care about this shit. 

(But, then, he'd felt no attraction to Alphonse, or to any other teenagers, so it was probably just Ed.) 

Heinkel, proving he was paying way more attention than he'd probably try to pretend he'd been later, came over with one of his little cases of breath mints. Darius still had no idea where he was getting them – he'd never once seen him buy any new, and it was nearly impossible for him to have a secret stash, as close together as they all lived – but this was one of those moments he was honestly glad for them. Ed, too, looked kind of grateful, accepting the mint with a slightly embarrassed smile. 

Heinkel brushed some hair out of Ed's face, his fingers lingering over the ridge of his cheek, before he left, hand brushing a little too purposefully against Darius' hip and the swell of his arse. 

Darius raised an eyebrow at Ed and mouthed, 'Straight?'

For one brief moment, Ed's whole face lit up with amusement, but then something seemed to occur to him, because his eyes dimmed and he closed them, letting out a quiet, shaken breath. "Please," he whispered, and Darius wasn't certain if Ed was asking him not to ask, or to just get on with it. 

He did both, freeing his wrist from Ed's slackened grip and palming him, waiting until he let out a helpless little whimper, hips arching up into Darius' hand, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the space just in front of Ed's ear. "What do you want?" he murmured at just the right angle. 

Ed shivered under him, the blanket under the hand Darius was bracing himself with pulling, like Ed was twisting his hand in it. "I don't want to think," he whispered in response, before his legs fell open as much as they could with Darius straddling them. 

"Done," Darius promised, before turning and catching Ed's mouth with his, licking into the cool spice from Heinkel's mint, even as he changed his grip on Ed's dick, a little bit firmer, a little bit more practised, twisting at just the right angle to–

Ed stiffened against him, letting out a ruined little cry into Darius' mouth. 

It had been over a year, but Darius still knew exactly how to wring a quick orgasm out of Ed. That was a nice boost to his ego. 

Darius glanced over at the table between the beds while Ed slumped under him, his lips turned with a far more peaceful smile than Darius had seen in a while, and, as he'd half expected, a bottle of lubricant and two condoms were sitting there; Heinkel had brought them with the mints, because he was Heinkel and possessed the ability to predict Darius' needs long before he did. (Or something.) 

He grabbed the lube and sat back on his heels, rearranging them both a bit so Ed's arse was in his lap, legs spread lazily to either side of him. 

Ed picked his head up off the pillow just long enough to shoot Darius a rather weak warning glare. Weak or not, one automail foot to the side of his head, early on, had taught Darius that Ed didn't like rimming, and left him with no desire to push that particular topic ever again. 

Rolling his eyes a bit at Ed's paranoia, Darius popped open the lube and squirted a generous amount into one hand, before closing it and tossing it down next to them. Then he sat up and forward a bit, bringing Ed up with him, not quite folding him in half, but leaving him in a position that Darius, himself, was far from flexible enough to manage. 

Ed's legs draped back over Darius' shoulders, and he raised an eyebrow at Darius when he peered down at him. "Testing my flexibility?" Ed guessed, his voice dry enough that Darius knew he would have to work fast if he was going to keep to his promise of not letting him think. 

"Maybe," Darius returned, before bringing up his handful of lube and making a fist, turning it so the lube drizzled out over Ed's anus, perineum, balls, and dick. 

Ed's eyes caught on the drops running along the length of his dick, his gaze quickly turning focussed, and Darius marked that last-minute idea as a winner. (To be fair, distracting Ed when his system was still flooded with whatever weird sciencey-hormone it was that accompanied an orgasm, was actually fairly easy, which Darius should probably feel worse about taking advantage of, but sometimes you had to cheat when you were dealing with a genius.) 

Darius used the last of the lube to start working Ed open, going a little faster than he would have liked, but he was racing against the little idiot's limited patience. 

And then the bed shifted and dipped, and Darius felt a familiar hand steadying him against the movement of the mattress. He glanced over and found Heinkel kneeling next to him, half-undressed and without his glasses. "Take your time," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss Ed. 

Ed let out a vaguely surprised noise, before relaxing a bit, one hand coming up to scratch through Heinkel's hair, which got an appreciative rumble from the part-lion. 

Once again, Heinkel to the rescue; Darius couldn't even _pretend_ to be upset about that, just relaxed back to give Heinkel a bit more room, and himself a more familiar angle. 

Heinkel must have been splitting his attention between trading spit with Ed and Darius' progress, because he found a condom being held out to him just as he was about to reach for it. He huffed a bit, torn between amusement and irritation, and grabbed Heinkel's wrist instead of the condom, tugging until he sat up, his eyes gleaming. 

"I thought you were just going to play voyeur," Darius muttered. 

"You looked like you needed a hand," Heinkel returned without any hint of shame. 

"I didn't–!"

Heinkel leant in and kissed him, tasting of those stupid mints. Below them, Ed made a noise that sounded a bit like appreciation, but was muffled by the sound of foil ripping. 

Darius had just about enough time to wonder at that, before someone, without warning, starting rolling a condom onto him. He couldn't quite stop himself from bucking into the contact – he'd been far more concerned with making sure he wouldn't hurt Ed accidentally, than his own dick – and Heinkel let out a quiet chuckle against his mouth. 

"Fucking feline," Darius muttered against Heinkel's mouth. 

Heinkel squeezed his dick in response, making Darius' breath hitch – _fuck_ – before withdrawing to recline next to Ed, whose eyes had blown wide with lust, a worryingly pleased smirk curling his lips. 

(Darius lived with a couple of voyeurs, and he didn't even have the right to bitch about it.) 

He quickly spread a bit of lube over the condom, then shifted back a bit and lined himself up at Ed's entrance. When he glanced up, he found Ed watching him with that half-desperate focussed look he always got right before someone pushed into him. 

Darius didn't make him wait, started pushing in slowly, couldn't quite resist a smile that felt a little feral when Ed's eyes fell closed and his back arched a bit, fingers twisting in the blankets. Next to him, Heinkel looked between them with that look he sometimes got, the one that Darius couldn't quite read, but suspected had something to do with his insistence that he was straight. 

When Darius was in as far as he could go on the first pass, he leant forward and whispered, "Ed." 

Ed's eyes opened, pupils blow wide, and his left hand brushed up Darius' arm, over his shoulder, and then fingers tugged at his sideburn. " _Hard_ ," he ordered. 

"No," Darius returned, because he might not be capable of predicting one of their needs twelve steps ahead, like Heinkel, or designing the most improbable attacks, only for them to work exactly like Ed had planned, but he could damn well read what Ed's body said he really needed when he'd finally let down his walls in bed, and every inch of him said he needed slow and deep. "Trust me." 

Ed blinked, slower than usual, and then he relaxed back against the bed. "Yes," he said, pitched like he was answering a question. 

Darius found himself nodding, decided not to bother questioning it, and set about dragging his way out of Ed, then pushing in, a little deeper than before as Ed's body opened up a little bit more. He did it again, and again, Ed opening a little bit more each time. 

By the time Darius managed to bottom out, Ed had thrown an arm over his eyes, hiding them from view, and Darius pretended he didn't see the glimmer of tears that the room light caught as another one slid down the side of his face to vanish in his hair. 

Heinkel had taken to rubbing one hand over Ed's stomach, and when he looked up and caught Darius' gaze, he found a well of concern in his eyes, accompanied by a quiet sort of gratitude. 

Holding himself in check was far easier when faced with the proof that Ed needed this, and Darius kept up his slow pace until Ed's breaths started coming that little bit quicker, his stomach muscles tensing under Heinkel's hand. Then he sped up just enough to push Ed over the edge, felt something in his chest clench when the noise Ed let out was more sob than anything else. 

Darius helped him ride out his orgasm, then pulled away, leaving him for Heinkel to clean up with a cloth that he'd apparently pulled from thin air – and Ed said magic was a trick to fool the unimaginative masses – while he finished off in the bathroom. 

When he got back out, Heinkel had got Ed under the covers and dimmed the lights, suggesting Ed had fallen asleep. His arms were folded tight over his bare chest and his expression was tense when he met Darius outside the door to the loo. "Something happened," he hissed, and Darius could almost see, for a moment, an agitated tail twitching behind him. (It was almost a pity that Heinkel _didn't_ have a tail, even if it would be more trouble to hide than it would be worth.) 

"He's not going to tell us," Darius replied flatly, looking over at the lump under the covers of the far bed. "I can't even tell if it was before or after he saw his sister." And that bothered him a lot, that it was possible that Elicia hadn't been able to ease whatever had started dragging at Ed this time; visiting her had been intended to _help_.

"We need a break. A hint or a holiday, I don't care what kind, but he can't keep going like this." 

Darius took a moment to look at Heinkel, take in the stress lines at the corners of his mouth, half-hidden behind his moustache. "We all do," he offered, because he wouldn't mind some sort of change to the status quo, himself. 

Heinkel slumped at that, reaching up in a practised motion to push his glasses a little further up his nose, only to touch air. He sighed and ended up just rubbing at his eyes, instead. "We need a hint," he said. "Some sort of lead. _Anything_."

'Ed's not going to take a break,' he didn't say. 

Darius looked towards Ed's formal uniform, set out over one of the chairs so it didn't chance getting creased. "Everyone's going to be at the memorial tomorrow," he heard himself saying. 

"And?" Heinkel prompted, his suspicious frown audible in his voice. 

Darius shot him a smile that felt a little too wild. "I bet the Führer's office will be empty." 

Heinkel just stared at him for a long moment, before his eyes narrowed and his moustache quivered. "Intelligence, too." 

Darius nodded – they understood each other – then said, "I'm going to turn in myself." 

Heinkel let out a quiet sigh. "Take the bed with Ed." 

Darius frowned back at him. 

Heinkel shrugged. "I don't want to chance waking him if I stay up for a little bit longer." 

Darius snorted, but he supposed Heinkel had a fair point, so he slipped into his usual sleep trousers and got into the bed with Ed without any further comment. And then, because Ed wasn't awake to curse and shove him, Darius gave into the urge to draw the little idiot into a hug. 

Entirely too telling, Ed curled closer, and Darius closed his eyes against the gorilla-born urge to hunt down and throttle who- or whatever had hurt a member of his band. 

Heinkel was right; they desperately needed a break of some kind. He only hoped it came before one of them got hurt.

.


	5. Come What May - Chapter 16 NSFW Extra (Ed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from chapter sixteen of _Come What May_ , when Ed and the chimeras stop in a hotel after finishing everything with the terrorists and Darius gets his promised arse.  
> ( **Warnings:** Referenced underage sex, threesome, explicit language)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please. There was no way I _wasn't_ writing this scene. XD
> 
> I didn't originally intend for this to be a threesome, and then Heinkel insisted, so.

Syrell lacked a proper hotel, instead boasting two competing inns that sat across from each other on the main road of the town. Almost before they had the car turned off, the proprietors of both had run out to try to get them to stay at their inn. 

Ed left it for Heinkel and Darius to sort out, instead walking around to the boot and starting to figure out what of their luggage they should bother bringing in. 

Once they knew where they were staying, they took all their things up to their room for the night, then Heinkel shoved a whining Darius back out ahead of him, coolly stating, "We are getting something to eat, because I am not dealing with _either_ of you on an empty stomach." 

Ed, because he could, laughed as he followed them out. 

Dinner turned into an intel-gathering mission, as the locals came in looking to trade tales, and they ended up getting back to their room with some potential leads, but far later than Ed, at least, had intended. 

He pulled out their south area map as soon as they got into the room, intending to mark the potential locations they'd been given, but Heinkel slipped the map from his hands right before Darius grabbed him, growing, " _Ed_."

Ed couldn't quite stop a snicker – he hadn't _intended_ to put Darius off again, honestly, but it was still kind of hilarious – and Darius responded by yanking his chin up and around, fingers digging into the underside of Ed's jaw hard enough to ache, and leaning down to press a hard kiss against his mouth. 

Ed's body responded utterly without his say-so – irritatingly more common than he liked to admit – kissing him back while one hand reached back to fist in Darius' hair, and the other grabbed at Darius' wrist, trying to get him to loosen his grip a bit; the last thing any of them needed was for Ed to have a hand-shaped bruise on his jaw in the morning. 

"Do attempt to keep it down," Heinkel said in a mild voice. 

Darius pulled away from Ed to ask, "What are you intending to do?" 

Ed managed to get Darius to loosen his grip enough that he could look over at Heinkel in time to watch him wave the map at them. "Work. Unlike _some_ people in this team." 

Ed rolled his eyes. 

"He's going to watch," Darius said in a faux whisper, "until he can't help himself any more." 

Heinkel, very obviously, ignored him. 

Ed snorted and tugged on his handful of hair. "Let him do what he wants, before I–"

He hadn't completely settled on what threat to use, but Darius kissed him again, so it was rather a moot point. 

Darius started picking at the buttons of Ed's button-up, and he gave up on holding onto the arsehole's hair in favour of yanking off his gloves and assisting with his shirt before Darius got frustrated – Ed had already heard, a few too many times, the joke about how tiny men needed tiny buttons – and just ripped his shirt. (It would be easily fixable, sure, but only if they could find all the buttons.) 

Heinkel let out a quiet, disapproving huff as Ed blindly tossed his shirt off to the side, but both he and Darius ignored him, stepping apart long enough to kick off boots and both get the rest of their tops off – Ed couldn't actually fully undress Darius while the arsehole was standing, and he was apparently horny enough to not make a big deal about it, which was _awesome_ – before stepping back in close, Darius getting a hand under Ed's arse to sort of...boost him up. ( _Not_ pick him up. Ed wasn't a child, or small, Darius was just _abnormally large_. The arsehole.) 

And then, Darius tossed him onto the bed. 

Ed bounced once, made a face, and shifted towards the edge of the bed, like he was going to get off – except laying down. As he'd hoped, Darius didn't stop to think, just rushed to get on the bed and loom over him. 

Ed gave him half a second to look victorious, then unbalanced the arsehole with a couple calculated shoves and yanks to his extremities, sending him toppling over sideways onto the expanse of bed that Ed's shifting to one side had left empty. He pushed himself up and sort of half-lunged, half-rolled over onto Darius, straddling his stomach and shoving down on his shoulders hard enough to abort his attempt to rise. 

Behind him, Heinkel let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like it was disguising laughter. 

Ed raised his eyebrows at the part-gorilla, and Darius raised his arms just enough that his opened hands would be visible in Ed's peripheral vision; he wasn't going to challenge his position. (At least, not for the moment; neither of them were much inclined towards submission, which was at least half the reason they were always sniping at each other.) 

With the promise of Darius' surrender (brief or not), Ed settled a little further back, pressing his clothed arse against Darius' clothed cock, then set about mapping what he could reach of Darius' abdomen and chest with fingers and teeth. 

Darius very determinedly held still, letting out faint, muffled grunts, for maybe twenty seconds, and then his hands caught Ed's hips and held him still so he could grind up against his arse. 

Ed couldn't quite hold in an approving noise, because, fuck it, that _felt good_. But then he sat up, pressing down very purposefully on the arsehole's cock. " _No_ ," he said, smacking Darius' hands until they let go. 

"Dammit, Ed," Darius rumbled, glaring at him, even as his hands fell obediently back to the bed. "If you start spouting patience bullshit at me, I'm going to shove my dick down your throat." 

Ed snorted – he very much doubted that would turn out like Darius was envisioning – but he didn't try imitating Greed's (sarcastic and always given for the express purpose of pissing the rest of them off) spiel about patience resulting in greater rewards. Instead, he lightly smacked the arsehole's stomach and ordered, "Stay put, unless you thought to grab a condom and lube in advance?" 

Darius dropped his head back onto the pillows, which was answer enough. 

Ed rolled his eyes and slipped off both Darius and the bed, making for the table and the condoms and lube that were sitting next to Heinkel's elbow. 

Heinkel caught his eye as he picked up what he needed, his own eyes glinting with amusement behind his glasses, and Ed flashed him a smile that was as much 'what can you do?' as it was a thanks for keeping on top of the little things that he and Darius had a bad habit of overlooking. 

And then Heinkel went back to the maps, and Ed shook his head to himself, remembering Darius' comment about Heinkel joining them eventually. Just because Heinkel had got involved last time – sort of; he wasn't certain some kissing and a bit of petting should really count – didn't mean he was going to make a habit of getting involved every time Ed made the bad life choice of promising Darius they could have sex. 

Turning back to the bed, Ed found Darius was in the process of kicking his trousers and pants off, and he snorted and tossed the lube and condom on the bed before lending a hand. 

"Shut up," Darius ordered, "and get naked already." 

Ed almost made a comment about how he was the one in charge, thanks, and he'd decide when to get naked, but Darius had that glint in his eyes that said he was willing to start a tussle (and probably bring the proprietor past, asking about the noise, and they'd end up having to move to the other inn). 

So. 

Ed finished getting undressed, kicking his trousers and pants out of the way and trading a grin with Darius when the noise of the items in his pockets didn't quite drown out Heinkel's pointed sigh. 

'Neat freak,' Darius mouthed. 

Ed rolled his eyes and slipped back onto the bed, smirking when the chill of his automail along his side made Darius shudder. "Let him alone," he murmured, quiet enough that Heinkel could pretend he hadn't heard. (Ed was under no illusions about how good the two chimeras' hearing was; so long as they were in the same room, no amount of whispering would keep them from hearing.) 

Darius huffed, and then his eyes glinted, which was all the warning Ed got before the arsehole's hands were cupping his arse, fingers pressing into his crack and pulling his cheeks apart. 

Ed grunted and had to catch himself against Darius' chest to keep from toppling, nearly thrown off balance. " _Fine_ ," he snapped, grabbing for the lube and opening it, then squirting a good bit into his palm. He gave himself a moment to find his balance – Darius' squeezing of his arse cheeks was _not helping_ – then he coated the fingers of his left hand – more familiar; the only time he'd used his automail fingers for this, one of his joints had caught on skin, and not having automail any more didn't change the fact that he was used to doing this with his left hand. He curled forward a bit, glanced up to catch Darius' eyes blown wide, and pressed one finger into himself. 

One of Darius' hands left his arse to press against his side, help balance him a bit, and Ed flashed him a smile that felt a little tight as he started stretching himself. 

Darius licked his lips. "And here I always thought the view from behind was the best," he said a bit roughly. 

"Shut the fuh-uck up." Prostate found, fantastic. He pushed his fingers against it again, firmer, and let his body jerk forward, against Darius' stomach and the head of his cock where it was resting there, leaking a bit. 

Darius let out a pathetic little whine and tightened his hands against Ed's side and arse. "Shift back just a–"

Ed laughed at him, couldn't quite bring himself to care that it came out a little breathless. 

He pressed against his prostate again – teasing himself and Darius, because he could – then withdrew his hand from himself and grabbed for the condom. 

Darius' brows lowered. "Are you–?"

"Shut up," Ed ordered, knowing exactly what the arsehole was about to ask: Darius wasn't particularly long, but he was thick, and he always freaked out a little too much about hurting Ed. Which, seriously, Ed wasn't a fucking delicate flower. 

He ripped the package open and slipped the condom over Darius, but, before he could actually line himself up, the bed shifted unexpectedly and a firm hand pressed against the centre of his back, hard enough that Ed – _really_ hadn't expected that – barely managed to bite back a shout as he fell forward against Darius' chest. 

And then Darius, the traitor, wrapped an arm around him to keep him there. 

"I think," Heinkel murmured over the sound of lube being squirted out, "that Ed could use a refresher in stretching himself properly." 

Oh, _fuck_.

"I'll second that call," Darius agreed, and Ed could hear his (doubtless) manic grin. 

Fingers pushed into him without any warning, rougher than Ed had been on his own, and aiming straight for his prostate. He pressed his face a little harder against Darius' hairy chest, let it muffle the noises he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried, not with the way Heinkel was fucking _mercilessly_ tormenting him. And he couldn't even fucking _do_ anything about it, because Darius had trapped his arms, and Heinkel had pressed one hand against the top of his arse, using just enough of his weight that Ed was very much pinned. 

When Heinkel finally let him go, Ed felt almost _too_ stretched, like the fucking part-lion had gone seriously overboard, but then he heard the sound of a condom wrapper ripping open, and Darius' arm around him squeezed him at the same time that he realised what that meant. 

He couldn't even pretend to care that he was going to be sore as all fuck in the morning. 

Half afraid Heinkel was going to misread his body language – he was fairly certain he'd tensed, but it was hard to tell when he was trapped against Darius – Ed twisted his head to the side and said, "Yes." 

Well, he aimed for 'yes'. What actually came out was a bit more embarrassing, sounded a bit like, "Yes, oh fuck yes, right fucking _now_ , what are you fucking waiting for you fucking–"

Darius rumbled a laugh, the sound thrumming through Ed and (thankfully) shutting him up. "I think," he murmured, finally freeing Ed, "that he wants to be fucked." 

Ed really wanted to tell him to shut up, but he was kind of afraid to open his mouth again. 

Warm hands on his hips helped guide him back down into position, while Darius helped him sit up, until he was leaning back against Heinkel's chest. He glanced up and back a bit, caught Heinkel's eyes and (hopefully) quirked a smile at him. 

Heinkel quirked a smile back. "Slowly," he ordered, before letting go of Ed, one hand slipping under him. 

Darius let out a choked little sound, right before something brushed back, over the underside of Ed's balls and that patch of skin – there was a word for it, what was the word?– until it tickled the edge of his way stretched anus. 

"Shut up," Ed's mouth said without his permission – less embarrassing, so at least things were improving? – before he bore down on what (unsurprisingly) turned out to be Darius' cock, moving faster than Heinkel probably would have liked, but _fuck it_. He'd lost control of the situation because Heinkel'd stepped in; the arsehole could damn-well suffer a bit of Ed doing what he wanted. 

And, fuck, Darius was usually a stretch, no matter how much prep Ed suffered through, but, this time–

Ed reached back, grabbing at the first patch of skin he touched – Heinkel's side, he assumed – and tugging on it. " _Now_ ," his traitor mouth ordered. 

"Impatient," Heinkel said on a huff, before pushing Ed forward a bit, changing the angle of Darius inside him. 

"Come _on_ , Heinkel," Darius gasped out, sounding almost as desperate as Ed felt. 

Heinkel's hand brushed along Ed's side and reached forward to pinch Darius' side, hard enough that he flinched, and Ed's laugh could probably have been construed as a gasp at the movement. But then Heinkel's hand withdrew to rest on his side, and _there it was_ , that extra pressure, filling him up so fucking completely and perfect and–

Heinkel's hand covered Ed's mouth, while Darius rumbled out a breathless chuckle beneath him. "Yes?" Darius asked when Ed managed to talk his eyes into opening so he could toss the arsehole a glare. 

Yes? Yes what? Had he been saying something? (Probably, since Heinkel had covered his mouth.) What might he have been saying? 

Was is good? Yes, yes it was good, and that was probably it, so Ed nodded, then turned his head when Heinkel's hand pressed against his cheek, met the lips that replaced his hand and felt Heinkel's mouth turning up at the corners at a broken sound from Darius. 

And then Heinkel moved inside him, pulling away a little bit, and then pushing in to fill him further, and Ed reached out blindly, gripped at the hand that caught his and squeezed hard. That hand squeezed back, while Heinkel breathed a quiet curse against Ed's lips – Darius must have done something – and Ed... 

Distantly, he recognised the same warmth of security from when Darius had hugged him when they'd met up again. He trusted that they had him, that they could and _would_ watch out for each other. 

In that moment, high on endorphins and so fucking close to the two chimeras, Ed felt like they were invulnerable, like _nothing_ could touch them. 

After, when the bed had stopped creaking ominously and Ed was trying not to flinch away from the flannel that Heinkel had collected from the bathroom at one point, the part-lion murmured, "You might regret that tomorrow," sounding a bit like he regretted it now. 

"Worth it," Ed tried to insist, though he didn't quite have the energy to make himself sound as emphatic as he would have liked. 

"Seconded," Darius added, sounding as worn as Ed felt. 

Heinkel huffed and a hand brushed against Ed's cheek. "Where do you want to sleep?" 

"With me, of course," Darius said. 

Somehow, Ed managed to draw up enough energy to smack the creeping hand that, he had little doubt, was going to pull him in close. "Grabby fuck," he muttered. 

Darius let out a pathetic, wounded sound, while Heinkel breathed out a laugh. 

"You have to get up to sleep with Heinkel," Darius pointed out while Heinkel left. (Probably to put the flannel back in the bathroom.) 

"Don't. This is my bed. Get off." 

"I was here first." 

" _Technically_ –" Heinkel started helpfully. 

There was a rush of air over Ed's shoulder and side, then Heinkel let out a slightly surprised grunt. Ed forced his eyes open and his head up enough to see the part-lion was holding a pillow against his chest and had turned an unimpressed stare on Darius. 

Ed realised he absolutely had the energy to switch beds, and he took the other pillow with him, which left Darius defenceless if Heinkel decided to wail on his with the pillow. 

He didn't, sadly, but he did keep the pillow, so he and Ed ended up with a plethora of pillows, while Darius grumbled for a while about how much they sucked, before finally falling asleep without any pillows. 

Ed fell asleep grinning, feeling quite good about the future.

.


	6. Come What May - Chapter 17 Extra (Roy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the call that Grumman makes to Roy in chapter 17 of _Come What May_ about Ed taking over the alchemy labs, from Roy's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this first, so I knew what responses Ed would hear. So while the conversation might not make sense in the fic, you'll see it actually does, here. :)

"Führer Grumman," Roy said once he'd accepted the phone from Fuery. 

_"Brigadier General,"_ Grumman replied, his tone mild. _"Lieutenant Colonel Elric seems to think you should be put in charge of the alchemy labs here in Central."_

Roy blinked at that. "I...see. Fullmetal is aware that I would be unable to do any inspections myself, so the duty would fall to him?" 

_"He's aware."_

Roy caught himself tensing. "Sir," he said, couldn't quite keep the tension from his voice, "might I remind you that Fullmetal is on _leave_."

From the doorway, Riza sighed, as aware as Roy that, when it served him, Grumman was totally willing to disregard the leave of his pet officers, of which Edward had become a member while Roy was still under the mistaken impression that the young man was planning to leave the military entirely. 

_"So he is,"_ Grumman agreed. 

" _Sir_ ," Roy stressed, and he really wished they weren't having this conversation over military lines. Not that it would have changed much, but at least Roy could have yelled. 

And he really hoped Edward was giving Grumman hell for this, because he _needed_ his leave. He'd needed the leave after the bombing, but he'd been way too stubborn, too determined to keep cleaning up a mess that _wasn't his fault_ and that should never have been made his duty, for all that he was the best suited to it. That he wasn't going at it alone, and that his chosen team and his academy squad were all clearly loyal to him, made it a little easier for Roy to step back, to _not_ drag Edward back to Ishval with him and hope he could keep the little idiot safe, but still. 

Edward was his subordinate, was quickly becoming a close friend, filling in that void that Maes' death had left almost without Roy noticing, and Roy didn't want to see him hurt. He hated that his own choices – his own _duty_ – had left Edward to navigate the darkest spaces of the military without Roy there to protect him from the worst of the landmines. Edward's reports – so much easier to read now he had the full use of his dominate hand back – and finally giving in and getting the phone line installed, had helped close the gap some, but it was all-too-clear that Roy was missing important things, because Grumman's phrasing... 

Edward had already been pulled off his leave – or had gone snooping while still on leave – was already involved in the labs, was just waiting for the confirmation that he could tear them apart. And Roy knew him, could make a guess about the sort of mess awaiting them in the labs; Edward was going to be neck-deep in this, whether Roy agreed to take responsibility or not. 

'You're going to owe him,' he couldn't say, but he had little doubt Grumman got the message all the same when Roy replied, "I'll take the responsibility, sir. Please tell Fullmetal I expect him to send me a copy of all his reports, including the one I'm sure he's already turned in." 

Grumman's laugh was every bit as obnoxious as Edward liked to complain. _"I'll be sure to pass that on to him."_

"Please also pass on to him, sir, that I expect to hear from him sometime today." Because Edward only called him when it was an emergency, avoided the Hugheses' when he knew Roy was due to call because, he'd said once with a laugh, 'I don't want to cut into your time with Elicia', as if he honestly believed Roy wouldn't like the chance to hear from him when things weren't falling apart around him. (But, then, to be fair, Roy was still a little uncertain where the line between their growing friendship and their commander-subordinate relationship were himself, and they should probably sort that out at some point.) 

_"I will,"_ Grumman agreed, before offering, _"Ah, that reminds me, Major Armstrong is technically in charge of lab inspections right now. Shall I have him start formally reporting to you?"_ Since, as the ranking alchemist, all of the State Alchemists technically fell under his purview, though all of them had a local commander they got their assignments from, just as Edward had always been Roy's duty, instead of Brigadier General Grand's. 

Alex, Roy knew, was currently reporting to the head of Central City Intelligence, Colonel Hotchkiss, and had probably been passing his reports about the labs on to Grumman. With Roy taking charge of the alchemy labs, all of Alex's reports should go to him, but if Edward was going to be doing the grunt work... "Have him report to Fullmetal." 

And, dear gods, he really hoped they got this terrorist situation in hand quickly, because this was a lot of additional work for someone who used to have to be insulted or cajoled into turning in a mission report. 

_"Of course."_

Roy resisted a sigh. "Is that all, sir?" 

_"It is. Thank you, Brigadier General."_

"Sir!" Roy responded before hanging up. Then he turned to Riza and deadpanned, "I'm beginning to understand Fullmetal's determination to punch our Führer upon his resignation." 

"Only beginning, sir?" was Riza's bland response, and Fuery and his fellow technician both choked on a laugh. 

Roy turned to Fuery. "Fullmetal should be ringing through tonight from a public line. I expect to be told right away." 

Fuery saluted. "Yes, sir." Then he relaxed slightly, his expression turning concerned. "Is Ed losing his leave?" 

"That's what I intend to find out." Among other things. 

Fuery nodded his understanding, and Roy resisted a sigh as he followed Riza back out into the desert.

.


End file.
